


RUSSIAN DOLL

by deltachye



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Gift Fic, One Shot, Time Loop, based off of russian doll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23431600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x dimitri blaiddyd | modern au]ying. Please stop dying. Please stop dying. Please stop dying. Please st[dw]
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 94
Collections: Gift Fics





	RUSSIAN DOLL

**Author's Note:**

> loosely inspired by the plot of russian doll.

Hell is a quiet, lonely penance.

There’s quite a lack of screaming and hellfire, surprisingly. Hell is an ordinary city with ordinary people, each living their own ordinary (perhaps extraordinary—he’d never know) lives. It’s actually quite peaceful, really. It isn’t even the extremes of winter or summer; it’s always a nice average temperature. The only reason this is Hell is because every day, he dies.

He’s gotten used to it at this point. For the first few cycles it’d been terrifying. Everything had become a death trap—he’d had a death from falling down the stairs, another by being hit by a car, and another by having a piano fall on his head.

Yeah. That one had been weird.

In any case, he lives the same day over and over again. Every day he wakes up to the same alarm. He can juggle whatever breakfast he wants to eat, but he has to be careful to avoid the stove. (Sometimes there’s a gas leak. Learnt that the hard way.) After calling the landlord, he can do whatever he wants, but it doesn’t really matter to all the people around him. The kind old lady next door greets him with the same wave as her chubby tabby cat yawns in her arms. One of the kids he plays street basketball with on weekends notices him on the porch and waves, yelling out “Didi!” with assured glee. Life continues as normal for them. For him, this is the new norm.

He’d tried bringing it up to people at first, but obviously, they thought he was insane. He couldn’t even blame them for antagonizing him. He never would’ve believed it himself if he wasn’t living it. He tried everything he could to reverse the time loop. Prayer. Spiritual cleansing. Occultism. Killing himself before the world did. Absolutely nothing worked. He kept waking up on the same Friday morning to the same alarm at 9:00 sharp, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t prevent his own death. 

So, he’d just accepted it for what it was. Maybe he had to die the same amount of times that he’d killed. He’d long since lost track of how many loops had passed. Figuring he had nothing to lose, he opened himself to the world just a tad more than before. That wasn’t easy for him. But considering that everybody forgot him, anyways, it became simpler to connect with the people around him. It was easier to be a little more vulnerable. Besides, it was a handy cheat—if he embarrassed himself by forgetting a name, he’d just restart and get it right the next time. There were worse circles of Hell…

…he’d thought, until he met her.

He’d been walking down the main avenue, wondering what to get for dinner, hoping morbidly that he’d actually get to have dinner in this loop. Even though taste wasn’t really on the table, there were a lot of childhood recipes he hoped to recreate for the (excuse me) hell of it, since there wasn’t much else to do. The striking smell of a nostalgic ice cream parlour begged for his attention, and when he turned to look, his heart dropped straight through his rib cage into the concrete.

Since when had this flower shop been here?

Panicked, he could do nothing but stand and gawk at the boutique. _“Tournesols”_ , the wooden sign read. Sunflowers. For all this time, _nothing_ had changed. He and the other residents hadn’t aged one bit. Everything was exactly. 

The. 

Same.

But he had never seen this place before in his life.

Was something finally happening? He had to know. Shaking himself out of his paralysis he hobbled through the miniature open door, crouching as not to hit his head. The place was small and rustic, as normal as any flower shop could get. Gentle piano music played from a speaker somewhere. A girl had her back to him as she fixed up a display. The boxes were balanced on a shelf and she was clearly struggling on her tip-toes. Without thinking, he walked over and helped push them back.

“Oh! Damn, you scared me.” The girl jumped back, holding a hand over her chest.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “It looked like you needed a hand.”

“Well, thanks for that.” She brushed her hands off on her pink apron before smiling up at him. “Can I help you find anything?”

“Um.” He realized now that he had no excuse to actually be here, besides _hey I live in this never-ending nightmare where I can’t escape this time loop because I die every time but then suddenly you showed up_. She _was_ unfamiliar, though, for once. He was pretty sure he’d met everybody in the city by this point, and he had never seen her before. She had a gentle attractiveness that seemed fitting for the floral aesthetic.

“When did you guys open?” he asked, choosing his words carefully so that he wouldn’t be called a maniac (again). The girl looked up thoughtfully; as she moved, he saw the crooked name tag pinned to her apron. [Name].

“A couple months ago? I’ve been working here since last week.”

 _Months?_ There was no way. He’d walked past this road millions of times, and there had never been a flower shop before. There’d always been a vacant lot, ready for lease, the sign sadly propped up in a dusty window. She seemed to be sensing his confusion and tilted her head.

“Are you looking for somebody or something?”

“What? Oh, sorry—no, it’s nothing. I’m just… lost in my own head.”

“Yeah… we all have those days.” She smiled again, though it was a bit sad. She then turned and gestured around the space. “Feel free to look around and let me know if you need any help?”

“Right. Yes. Thank you, er…” He squinted back to her name tag. “Ms. [Name].”

“Ms?” she repeated, looking surprised. Her face split into a grin that she immediately hid behind a hand, leaving him wishing she hadn’t covered it up. “I didn’t think you were an old-fashioned type of guy. Just call me [Name], okay?” 

“Ah. As you wish.”

“And what’s your name, Mr....?”

“Dimitri Blaiddyd.”

“Never heard that one yet,” she laughed, her voice clear and gentle. She extended a ring clad hand, so delicate that it looked like it might break if he touched it. “Nice to meet you, Dimitri.”

That day’s death had happened a couple hours after he left the shop and [Name] behind. (Manhole. He’d forgotten about those ones.) And he woke up at 9:00 AM, eyes shooting open. He barely got dressed, tumbling out of bed in mismatched shoes to race down to Tournesols. He ignored the lady with the black cat and the soccer boy, apologizing to them under his breath as he sprinted west. Sure enough, the shop was still there. 

“Hey. You on a morning jog or something, Dimitri?”

[Name] was setting up the signs outside, looking surprised to see him. Out of breath, he could only nod. Then, horror—

“You _remember_ me?”

“Um… yeah, of course I do,” she replied matter of factly. “I just saw you yesterday. Remember?”

“Yester—” He resisted every urge he had to grab her shoulders and shake, clenching his fists instead. “I’m terribly sorry for the weird question, but; what day is it?”

“It’s Friday.”

If it was still Friday, how could she have met him _yesterday_? His head was spinning, and he felt like he had to sit down before he collapsed. Worriedly, [Name] walked over to him and placed a cool hand on his arm to steady him.

“You’re looking pale… are you okay?”

“Yes,” he lied, not wanting to concern her. He gulped. The time loop was crumbling, but why? [Name] was the only difference here, but… _why_?

“Come and sit down. You probably pushed yourself too hard. I’ll make you some tea, okay?”

Mindlessly, he could do nothing but obey. His head ached as he sat on the little white bench outside the shop. It was still Friday, just like it’d been for the countless other loops before. But [Name] remembered him from a yesterday that didn’t exist. What in the gods names was going on?

“Here. It’s hot, so be careful.”

She came back outside with a silver platter and two white mugs. She’d wrapped the teabag strand around the handle neatly. The small, careful detail drained some tension from his shoulders.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” She sat beside him, her lips slightly pursed. He could tell that she wanted to ask what was wrong, but how could he begin to explain this? 

“I’m sorry, can I ask you something?” she blurted out, confirming his suspicions. “You don’t have to answer or anything.”

“Of course.” 

“What happened to your eye?”

Unconsciously, he reached up and touched the orbital of his right eye. Right; he’d completely forgotten. He averted his gaze to his tea because he didn’t know what else to do. The memories of his past drifted to the forefront of his mind again.

“Aw, shit. That was a really personal question. I’m so sorry, I just—”

“It’s fine,” he interjected, quiet. “It’s a valid question. Let’s just say it was destiny.”

“Do you believe in fate?”

“I don’t know anymore,” he replied. “I think I used to.”

“…well, if fate does exist, I’m glad I got to meet you. And have tea with you.”

He looked to her, surprised. She was sipping at her mug, casting her gaze out to the cobblestone street—but he could see a tell-tale flush present on her cheek bones, brightening her face more than it already was. Finally, he smiled, carefree.

“I agree.”

That death was a snake bite. That was new to the book. That aside, he woke up at 9:00 on Friday. He took a little more care in his appearance, combing his hair and picking out proper clothes. Then he went on his trip to Tournesols. It was still standing, and there she was as usual, dress up in her pink apron and low ponytail. She looked up, holding her broom, and beamed at him.

“Dimitri, hey! Don’t tell me your flowers died already.”

“No,” he breathed, feeling a smile ease onto his own face. “I just wanted to see you.”

They talked. He’d die. They’d talk the next loop. He’d die. He’d invite her out and he’d die before that could happen—so he kept asking her out until finally, they got to share a nice lunch. Then he’d die. But it didn’t even matter that he was dying over and over anymore, because tomorrow he’d get to see her. And she always remembered him. She didn’t seem to notice that the day was repeating like everybody else, but he didn’t care. It was like his Hell had flipped into a Heaven all of the sudden, because he was starting to think that he could spend an eternity with the beautiful flower girl three blocks west.

It all changed with the fire.

“Sir, you can’t go in there!” A fireman larger and stronger than he held him back as he struggled.

“No!” he screamed hoarsely, wrestling with all of his might. “She’s in there! [Name]’s in there!”

“ **Bzzt.** ” The fireman’s radio crackled to life on his jacket. “This is Captain Nate. Body located. Young woman, I think. We got here too late. No other survivors. Evacuating now. I think there’s a gas leak. Clear the perimeter.”

“ _No_!” Dimitri cried, dropping to his feet, ignoring the fireman attempting to console him. No. _No_. He hadn’t told her he loved her yet, having been waiting for the next loop. How could she be dead? How could this happen to her instead of _him_ , dammit?!

“ _Sir_ , get back from there—!”

Ah. Another gas leak. Who knew.

But he woke up again. 9:00 on a Friday. He got right out of bed and raced down the street bare foot. The neighbour’s dog barked after him. Didn’t she have a cat? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but her.

The flower shop was standing this time. Ignoring the fact that he most likely looked like a deranged criminal, he pounded on the locked door.

“[Name]!” he hollered, “it’s Dimitri, _please_ —”

The door swung open. She was dressed, though this was the first time he’d seen her without an apron. Alarmed, she asked, “Dimitri? What’s going on?”

He ignored her confused look and wrapped her up in a hug that caused her to wheeze in his ear. Thank the gods. She was alive. Her body was warm and small in his arms; he’d never felt so thankful in his life.

“We should get out of here,” he realized with a jolt. “There’s a gas leak.”

“Wh—how do you know that? Ack—where are you taking me?! Dimitri!”

“Back to my place,” he muttered, almost frantically. “I’m going to keep you safe this time. I swear.”

“Wait! Tell me what’s going on at least!”

“I’ll tell you as we go.” He had no choice but to explain everything to her now. He’d always meant to hide it, but now that she was caught up in the death loop, he couldn’t keep it from her any longer. Remembering the last one made his bones ache and his teeth burn. His hand tight around her own, he led her back to his apartment, ignoring her struggle to match his stride.

“Hey, Dimitri… jeez, are you okay? Seriously!” She swatted him off of her, eyes wide with a glimmer of something he recognized. Fear. It broke his heart.

“Yes,” he replied impatiently, the anxiety building in his stomach. “Like I said, I’ll explain later. I promise. So can you just come with me? Please.” He held his hand out again. She was still wringing her own hands together, eyeing his palm anxiously. But then she reached out.

“You guys, watch out!”

He looked up sharply to see the trailer veering course, its tires screeching against the concrete, and—

9:00. Friday. _Not again._ Once again, ignoring everything else, he ran out to the flower shop. It was a cloudy day all of the sudden; nobody was out. Not his neighbour and her cat. Not the kid. It was eerily silent.

The shop was there. He knocked again, pounding on the door. [Name] answered. Confused. He explained the gas leak. She was hesitant but agreed to follow him. He took another route home, being sure to be more vigilant with his surroundings. It took forever as he avoided every major road and manhole he could. Finally, they eventually made it back to his place.

“Are you going to tell me what this is about, now?”

“I…” Tiredly, he sighed. “Do you believe in time loops?”

On his couch, she crossed her arms, staring at him with valid concern. He explained it all—how he’d been stuck on this Friday for who knows how long, dying every day and repeating it each time. 

“You’re the only thing that’s been different,” he finished, his jaw tired from speaking so much. She had listened in rapt silence, only showing signs of life by blinking every so often. Unable to stop himself, he reached over, grasping her hand for support. Comfort. Anything _real_. “Ever since I fell in love with you, things have changed. Badly.”

“You’re in love with me?”

Oh. He shouldn’t have said that; after all, this [Name] always only remembered one day of him. He probably sounded insane, declaring his love for her after a ‘day’ of knowing her. But he knew her quirks; how she had a bad habit of staring at people while she was deep in thought, and how that had gotten her into trouble on several occasions. How she adored the sun and the flowers she worked with. How she rubs her lips together, always searching for lip gloss in her apron pockets. How cold her hands always are, even in between his own. 

“Yes,” he replied, bowing his head in shame. [Name] was quiet for a moment, each second tolling on his soul.

“Okay. I believe you.”

His head shot back up and he felt his jaw slacken. “You do?”

“I mean, it’d be way too much effort to make up a crazy story like that. And you know a lot about me that I definitely haven’t told you.” She took her other hand, closing it over his own, making him shiver. Her eyes were compassionate, gazing upon him with such a kindness he felt like he was undeserving to look back. “I’m so sorry you’ve been through this much, Dimitri.”

“I don’t know when it’ll end,” he admitted. “At first it was just me, but now you’re in danger too… It’s probably my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about me. How do you think we can fix this?”

It almost made him cry. Here he was, spouting outlandish tales about time loops and repeated death, but all [Name] wanted to do was help him. However, he had no good answer. He’d been looking all this time and came up short. Nothing about that part had changed.

“I think we just try to survive together. Maybe that would help.”

“Hole ourselves up?” she suggested, looking around. “Have you ever died in here?”

“Er… a couple of times, unfortunately.”

She grimaced. “Bummer. Should we go back to my place? Hm… but you said there was the leak, so… damn. This is hard.”

He watched her furrow her brow in thought, her hands still holding his own. He truly didn’t deserve this. Was _this_ the true punishment? He had fallen in love with an angel, only to see her in pain; something that hurt far worse than the thousands of deaths he’d experienced.

“Okay, Dima. We’re gonna figure this out. No more deaths for you and I!”

She clapped her palms against his cheeks, startling him. She grinned at his stunned expression.

“You haven’t called me Dima in quite a few loops,” he confessed, feeling his heart thud in his chest. 

“Really? But it’s so cute. What else have I called you?”

“…Mitri.”

“Oh, I like that too. Smart of me. Don’t worry. We’ve got plenty of time for me to switch things up.”

 _Time_. He hadn’t thought about it like that. Suddenly, he was seized with a sudden urge—he had never gotten to yet. He’d always thought he had time, but it was starting to become clear that time is just as fragile as a flower petal. Clasping a rough palm of his over the back of her hand, he pleaded, voice cracking with emotion,

“Can I kiss you?”

Her eyes widened, but then she swallowed, pressing her lips together. She was nodding before he could take it back.

“Yeah.”

He leant forwards, before—

“SWAT! Mr. Keller, open the door!”

“Keller?” [Name] asked bewilderedly, jumping back. Dimitri’s heart dropped.

“This isn’t—”

“Open fire!”

“No!” Dimitri yelped. He threw his body over [Name], hoping to shield her, but—

9:00 AM. Friday.

Again, he ran, ignoring the sharp cuts on the bottom of his feet, ignoring the fire in his lungs and the stones in his legs. He had to go—he had to _see_ —

“[Name]!” he gasped, seeing her wiping the window down from a distance. She turned to look at him.

“[Name], you’re still here. Thank God.” He bent over onto his knees, spitting the iron out of his mouth before looking back up. “Okay. This time let’s stay—”

“I-I’m really sorry, but the store isn’t open right now. Who are you?”

_No._

“Dimitri. It’s Dima.”

“Have we met…? I’m usually good with faces, but… ugh. It’ll come back to me.” She rubbed her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut in concentration. “Sorry! Gimme a minute.”

“Are you sure you don’t remember me?” he asked, so quietly that he hoped she wouldn’t hear and wouldn’t answer. But she did, and she shook her head apologetically. She started after looking at him more closely.

“Oh my god. Where are your shoes? Are you okay?”

“I’m…” He didn’t have the energy to finish his statement. No. No he wasn’t.

“I’m going to get my husband. You should sit down. Do you know where you are?”

Husband.

So _this_ is true Hell.

“Excuse me,” he murmured, turning away. He walked away.

“Hey, wait—you shouldn’t go out like that! Mr. Dimitri, _wait_!”

He ignored her cries without looking back. Quietly, he wandered, occasionally glancing upwards. He found a suitable one a few blocks away. The stairs were easy to climb and when he blinked, he was leaning over the railing, staring down at the tiny car tops. It’d been a while since he’d actually wanted to die again. Every day with her, he’d wanted to live so badly—to see Saturday and all the other days of his life with her. 

It didn’t matter anymore. He leapt.

9:00 AM. Friday.

He stayed in bed.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: https://deltachye.tumblr.com/


End file.
